


In My Veins

by Avdal



Series: Random Writers Blocked Works [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Minor Character Death, Other, Reverse Harem, Romance, Smut, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, fuck me i dont know how to tag this, no major ones because im not some asshole, they dont have a tag for that, ummmmmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avdal/pseuds/Avdal
Summary: He was her target. Her easy mark.When Rey broke into the stranger’s apartment, she had one simple goal: get in, rob him blind and get out. Turns out the universe had something else in mind.That night their fates were spun together. When Ben caught her just as she was walking out of his bedroom, a bag of his money tucked under her arm, there was only one logical thing he could do: he slipped a phone into her bag to keep his money company and sent her on her way.Sure, she’d pulled a knife on him and threatened his life, but that didn’t change things. They were meant to find each other. Something had brought them together night.Ben knew her face, but he didn’t know her. Now he just had to make up for lost time.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Random Writers Blocked Works [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1256498
Comments: 58
Kudos: 118





	1. Little Thief

_Prologue: Six months before the The Incident…_

The key clicked in the lock just as the sun set over the horizon.

Rey held her breath as her mark turned away and left. These were the worst moments. Those critical first minutes both before and after when so much could go wrong. He could come back in. Someone could see her. He could have changed something between now and her last round of surveillance.

Her mark- and Rey very deliberately tried to not know their names, it made it easier- had his head down, hands in his pockets. That was how he usually waked. Nothing unusual yet, though his timing was somewhat unusual. Mostly so far so good.

And then he stopped. Rey had been watching him from the reflection in the plexiglas walls of the bus stop. He looked right at her. Met her eyes and she immediately studied her shoes.

Rey was good at what she did. He couldn’t have made her. She had been in his line of sight only once before, and that had been five weeks ago when she’d been standing behind him in line to get coffee. Baseball hat on, hadn’t said a word. She was a nobody. That’s how she had survived this long.

His reflection took a step closer. Her mark didn’t usually that way. He must have worked a night shift somewhere, and Rey knew where his car was parked. Tonight he wasn’t walking to either.

Instinct demands she bolt. Rey pressed her lips together, ignoring her creepy crawlies. They had been getting worse these last six weeks. They crept their way invisibly along her spine, making nervous energy flood her until she had to cross her arms to keep them from shaking.

She can feel the weight of his stare at the back of her head. It made her toes itch, all the hairs on her arms stand up. Her creepy crawlies pushed at her lungs, shortening her breath into tight little sniffs that only fueled the knot of nerves twisting in her gut.

Keep it together, Rey. You haven’t done anything wrong yet. If he walks by, keep your head down. He doesn’t know you. You’re just a girl waiting for a bus.

Time seems to stretch forever when you’re terrified for your life. Rey’s crawlies wouldn’t shut up. That itchy, prickly, uncomfortable feeling of her certain madness. They came and they went and came back again and tonight it seemed like they weren’t going anywhere.

The streetlights came on. That time of evening. Her eyes flicked up. This was unbearable. Just pass by already.

The reflection in the plexiglas is tiny and walking away in the other direction. Nearly out of sight now.

Everything’s fine. The job’s still on.

Rey gave it another two minutes, but not any longer. The bus she wasn’t waiting for was about to really come and, if anyone _was_ watching her, it might seem strange that she didn’t get on.

Rey crossed the street stiffly. Three steps up to her mark’s front door and her heart pounds just that bit harder with every one.

One last glance over her shoulder. Probably a pretty suspicious looking glance, but this was her last chance to back out.

All quiet. No one on the streets. Mark nowhere and, by her best guess, he was probably in his car and a good few blocks off to his evening of wherever by now.

Rey put her hand on the doorknob and shoved her crawlies back into their recesses with every ounce of er will. She pantomimed opening the lock with a key just in case. Picking it took literally less than three seconds. Easy peasy just like she’d expected; this guy didn’t even have a deadbolt or crossbar.

Rey opened the door and stepped in quickly. Her eyes immediately darted around, looking to see if there was an alarm panel on the wall. Any signs of their being security cameras. No to the first, unlikely to the second. If there _were_ cameras, well… that would suck. Sometimes she’d wear masks on her gigs, but that wasn’t a practical option this time.

No, she meant it. Rey was good at what she did. Everything was going well. She took another few steps inside before coming to a dead stop.

The room was messy. Not completely so, but there were items strewn about. An unwashed plate and cup on the coffee table. A folded stack of clothing where it shouldn’t be. A dull blue glow came from her mark’s half-closed laptop.

Instinct told Rey then and there that she should leave. Why was there a light still on? It wasn’t like there was someone else that lived here. Her mark lived alone and he never had company over. Hell, in the six weeks that Rey had been watching the place, she’d barely even seen him talk on the phone. Not much of a people person, and most of the nights that she’d been watching him he’d been here in his living room on his computer (and decidedly not masturbating) or doing _something_ in his bedroom with he curtains closed (possibly, details pending).

Fear gnawed at her inside, but also curiosity. For the last six weeks she had watched this man live a boring, predictable life. He was clean, immediately tidied up after himself, and kept a pretty easy to anticipate schedule. Now tonight of all nights something was different.

She closed her eyes for a second and listened. _Really_ listened. Let her creepies unsettling rustle flow through her mind. The street outside was quiet. The bus had already come and gone. If she was going to make a move, now was the time. Plutt had made it clear that she’d better bring back something for him and soon, _or else_.

Rey hurried to the back room that she knew was her mark’s bedroom. That’s where he kept his cash. She knew he kept his money in there, and she suspected it was somewhere along the wall with his bed. Back at that coffee shop she had swiped his credit card. Not to get anything off it- absolutely no electronic paper trail thank you very much- but she needed to inconvenience him into going back to his house to get some cash. Rey felt kind of bad about that, honestly, because he’d probably had to call his bank and get a new one issued and all that, but it couldn’t be helped.

Rey paused when she reached for the doorknob. There was a light on inside.

For the second time tonight she wished she was wearing a mask. If she really was about to barge in on someone still in there- which didn’t make sense since her mark _never_ had company over- then she was only one semi-accurate police sketch away from incarceration.

On the other hand, a masked stranger bursting into a bedroom might be probably cause in itself.

Rey swallows, her creepy crawlies mercifully quiet for one karking moment, and she opened the door. Her other hand rested on the hilt of the knife she kept hidden under her jacket. She carried it with her not so much for defense (or offense) but for the practicalities of sometimes having to cut things away. That and the sense of false security that came with the weight of the metal as it pressed against her palm.

Rey released her breath when she saw that mercifully yes, the bedroom was empty after all. However, there was a light on and the curtains were open. Two more things that were completely unprecedented during these last six weeks.

This whole thing reeked of a very bad idea, but Plutt’s last words to her from yesterday hung heavy against greater logical. Pay up, little girl, or you’ll know what will happen.

Oh, she did know. That thought alone was enough for Rey to push back all her reservations and move further inside. The bedroom was in a similar state of controlled chaos to the living room. Small personal items were scattered about, clothing was waiting at the foot of the bed, and there was an open duffle bag sitting on the floor at the foot of it. Above the bed was a high shelf where Rey suspected the cash was hidden somewhere, but it never hurt to do a little snooping around first. Maybe she could find something she could fence? The longer she stayed at this house the more it seemed like the big payday she so desperately needed wasn’t going to be found tonight.

More clothes and a picture frame. That’s what she found in the bag. It really looked like her mark had been packing tonight, and the sentimental nature of the the portrait of the smiling, older woman lead Rey to believe this duffle was indeed for more than just a weekend getaway.

Rey ran her hand through then under the folded clothing until her fingertips brushed against something hard. She raised an eyebrow, pulling out the pill bottle. Prescription, by the looks of it, but the label had been peeled off.

Street drugs could fetch a high price, but Rey slipped it back to where she found it. Cash was king in this game and, if this was something that her mark really needed, then the least she could do after robbing him blind was leave his medication behind.

The only unknown part of this bedroom was the closet, but Rey really would prefer not to have to go through that. Always took too long and one of these days she was going to rob the wrong mark and find a literal skeleton in there

That left the high shelf. Rey sighed. She climbed on his bed shoes and all and shuffled over. She was probably leaving dirty footprints on his black sheets but… well, she was about to rob him. Did that really matter?

There were only two items on the shelf: a box and a small Yoda figurine. Rey cracked a smile at the second one. The rest of her mark’s house was so completely uninspired and devoid of any form of personality, but he kept a signed Star Wars action figure above his bed? It was kind of cute.

For a second Rey found herself imagining what her mark might have looked like as a child. Why he would have brought this toy of all things with him into adulthood?

She quickly squashed that thought, refocusing herself on the task at hand. It was _never_ a good idea to think to much about the people she robbed. Rey always tried to keep them as nameless and faceless as she could, for the sake of her abused conscience if nothing else.

The only other item on the shelf was a wooden box. Rey’s eyes were immediately drawn to it. It wasn’t what she needed, obviously. No one even an idiot foolhardy young man would store their money in a box over their bed. This was the reason Rey usually targeted people of demographics like him even though they typically didn’t have a lot of money: young men were easy marks. They thought they were indestructible. So, yeah, maybe he’d keep his cash in a box. Why the hell not?

The moment Rey picked it up the rest of the room seemed to fall away. It was all she could look at. Her creepies made her fingers move on their own, and she held her breath as she slid the wooden top aside to look in.

It was a calligraphy set. Elegant, simple, well made. Probably worth something, too, but that didn’t matter. Rey stared at it, mesmerized by the perfectly delicate, swirling script on the top page.

Her mark did this? It was a ridiculous notion. From what she remembered he was such a tall, massive man. The spread of his fingers were probably bigger than this whole box, but an image flashed through Rey’s mind crystal clear regardless. She saw him clearly as day sitting here on his bed, his shoulders leaning against the headboard and this calligraphy set propped up on his knee. He liked this because… it calmed him. Reminded him of something else. The precision of it, the repetition. It was soothing. A calm to break through all the chaos.

Rey’s eyes widened and the vision disappeared in an instant. She snapped the lid of the box back into place and pushed it away, her creepy crawlies coming back to make themselves known in full force.

And then she saw it.

There was a large bundle of cash sitting right under the lit desk lamp. It’s focused incandescence created a literal spotlight, and the only reason Rey could think of that she hadn’t noticed it when she first came in was that it was so obvious.

She stared at it and the money stared right back. Too obvious. Like it had been placed there just for her to find.

Rey pounced. She leapt across the bed, not caring that she was mucking up her mark’s sheets with her shoes, and snatched the bundle. A twenty was on top, and there were a good two inches of bills under it. Smaller bills. Mostly fives and tens but hell, even a few ones as well.

Fuck. This was only a few hundred dollars at best. Double fucking fuck.

Anger immediately spilled through her, drowning out the cautious murmurs of her crawlies. They were trying to tell her to something, but fuck it. Fuck them and fuck this fucking burglary. Rey had spent the last six weeks watching this quiet, boring as shit mark for _this_? It wasn’t even a fraction of what Plutt wanted.

Okay Yoda, now’s your time to shine. Rey snarled as she grabbed the figurine. It was autographed Frank Oz, the character’s original voice actor. Likely that would fetch something and, just to be petty, Rey grabbed the obnoxiously fancy calligraphy set and threw it into her shoulder bag as well. Her fingertips tingled when she touched it but Rey ignored that, burying down whatever her sixth sense was trying to tell her as she bounded off the bed, her stuff bag hanging with a pathetic lightness as it hung off her shoulder. She didn'tbother trying to be quiet anymore, she only thought of what else could she possibly take from this _dump_ to make up fr all her lost time? The laptop, maybe? Difficult to pawn and she’d have to wipe it first, but-

Rey screamed when she saw him.

Her mark was standing in his living room, blocking the front door and resting his weight against the frame with his shoulder. He gave every appearance of having been there for bloody well long enough to get comfortable, but when her voice pierced the silence of the room with her second cry he immediately took a step closer and waived her to quiet down.

“Don’t scream again. You’ll scare the neighbors.”

Rey had spent the last six weeks watching this man, this stranger, but she hadn’t heard his voice until now. It cut through her, shocking her into taking a step backwards and nearly stumbling over her own feet. He don't sound angry. Angry _or_ surprised.

“It’s okay,” he told her.

He took another step forward. Rey’s eyes darted to the space between his back and the door. Her crawlies started to short circuit, numbing her brain to anything but the abrupt, panicked need to escape.

Rey still hadn’t spoken a word yet, and the stranger frowned, his neutral expression dropping as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her silence.

“No one knows you’re here,” he said. “I didn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There was a phone in one of his hands. The other was hooked by the thumb into his pocket, the free fingers tapping at the side of his legs as he watched her.

No one knew she was here, but _he_ did. She’d been made. Rey was good at what she did, but she’d just been caught. Her thoughts fell to the knife under her jacket but did she really want to take it there? That would be “escalation”.

The stranger cleared his throat, his expression growing more and more troubled the longer he watched her. Then his eyes dropped to the small stuff sack hanging at her side.

“What’s in that?” he asked. “I left the money out for you?”

He phrased it like a question. Kark his voice had an echo to it, and that was only enhanced by how flimsy thin Rey’s breaths were coming. Every word he said seemed to reverberate around her creep creep crawling mind as she stood there mute.

Short.

Circuit

_\- i ng._

She couldn't move. Probably should, but… where?

Her mark took another step forward.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Rey could- she was fast. But fast enough to shove him aside _and_ open the door?

“You’re afraid.”

He said it but Rey didn’t hear him. Her crawlies- her _instincts_ \- snapped, taking control and bridging the gap between her mind and limbs. She bolted, feigning leaping to the left but spinning to the right in the last moment as the stranger darted to stop her. He still beat her, though, at too much of an advantage in both distance and height. The whole house seemed to shake when he threw his back against the front door, his bulk as an effective a lock as a wall of concrete.

Then he blinked asRey pressed her knife against his neck.

“Move. Now,” she ordered.

His hand had been on her shoulder bag and it slowly falls. For a second he looks distressed, but he nodded. Rey takes a step back, her arm stretched out to keep the knife between him. Tears started to prick at her eyes when he didn’t move. Cheater.

“You’re scared,” he repeats.

Rey’s eyes started to burn with unshod tears. Mercilessly her creepy crawlies were suddenly nowhere to be seen. The karking bane of her life and now of all times they just up and left her here.

She wasn’t scared. She was fucking petrified.

“You’re the one who should beafraid, mark.” All false bravado. Rey doesn’t believe herself for a second. “Now get out of my way and don’t make me use this.”

Her grip on the handle tightened to white-knuckled severity, but the stranger’s gaze never wavered. _Fuck_.

“Why do you live the way you do?” he asked, his question completely coming out of the blue.

He didn’t sound angry. No, he appeared genuinely interested in her answer.

“W-what?”

He took another step closer, bringing himself back into contact with the knife’s tip, and it was Rey’s turn to scuttle back faster. She raised her free hand palm out and, to her surprise, he stopped.

“Why do you rob people when hate it so much?” he asked. “You hate doing this. It makes you miserable, so why do you?”

Rey swallowed, a ringing starting to bounce through her head. Just who in the hell was this guy?

“Move,” she ordered.

She stepped to the right. He matched left. Kriff he was tall. She’d forgotten that from all the time that had spanned since the coffee shop.

“My name’s not Mark.”

Rey’s next step faltered. She blinked rapidly at him, her arm starting to shake as the extended weight of the knife made itself known to her biceps.

“You called me Mark,” he explained. Another left to her right. “My name’s Ben. What’s yours?”

Rey gawked at him. One thing and one thing only was becoming very clear: this man was off his karking marbles.

“No names,” she hissed. “Get out of my way.”

Please. Please, you enormous karking crazy psycho, please get out of my way.

Another step to the right and her _mark_ seemed to figure out what she was playing at. Rey had almost switched their places in the room. That would have put him in the middle and her back to the door. Freedom definitely within sprinting distance.

He gave her a look that seem almost betrayed. Karking. Psycho.

“Don’t go yet,” he said quietly. “I didn’t- well, I knew you were coming, but… I wanted to leave my money around in little areas so you could go around and...”

His voice fell off the cliff as Rey openly gaped at him.

“Nevermind,” he said quickly. “It was a stupid idea. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Rey needed to get the hell out of here. What if he had been lying? Why wouldn't he be lying? He could have- should have- called the cops the moment he realized she was in his bedroom. He could be trying to delay her until it was too late.

“Why does your house look like this?” she asked, desperate to buy herself a moment’s opportunity. “You normally keep it immaculate but-”

But not tonight. Of all nights. And _fuck_ , did she just admit to having been spying on him prior?Premeditated? Kind of retreading old ground by this point, but the stranger seemed to think about her question before answering.

“I was about to leave. Move somewhere else. I’d been waiting for you but, well, it was supposed to be tomorrow. You had good timing to do your little thief routine tonight.”

Her _routine_? Oh kark you. Rey’s creepies chose this moment to come back in full force, fueling her anger to blast through the fear that had been steadily turning her veins to ice. She may be about to get arrested, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to tolerate her technique being disrespected in the meantime.

“I will stab you,” she promised.

Her mark swallowed. Rey’s eyes followed the movements of his throat bobbing. The throat she just might have to stab him in soon. Fuckity fuck fuck.

Rey spun around, moving so fast that the whole room streaked into lines of light and dark. Her hand was on the doorknob one second, _his_ own around her the next. The stranger shouted something, his massive strength pulling her of her feet.

Pure energy tumbled through her, racing out of her heart and through her veins into her palms. Rey shouted, shoving him back with all her might. He fell. Tumbled. Collapsed onto his hands and knees, one arm wrapped tightly across his chest as he coughed.

For a single suspended moment Rey felt superhuman. Then the shockwave hit her, her palms throbbing and her fingers clenched tight into fists as pain replaced panic.

“What did you just do?” His voice was a hoarse rasp as he looked up at her.

He was twice her size and Rey had just shoved him aside like he was nothing. The power of a thunderstorm shook through her before disappearing into nothing but an echo. She slumped against the door frame, shock turning into a horror that resounded through every inch of her body.

“Are you alright?” she gasped, unable to look away.

The stranger coughed, her massive form trembling as he tried but failed to stand up. He nodded, though, his head turning away.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “fine. Feeling plenty fibrillated though. Good on that. Did you just tase me?”

He pushed himself up to half-standing, most of his weight supported by the edge of the couch. He still held a hand to his chest, but he dropped it to reach into his pocket.

“Here,” he said, extending his arm to her. “I got this is for you.”

Rey didn’t move. Couldn’t. The stranger sighed after a moment, his fingers twisting whatever he was holding to a different angle.

It was a folded roll of cash.

“Take it,” he muttered. “I only had a few hundred in the house when I realized you were coming. I figured that if you were going to go to the trouble of robbing someone, you’d need more than that.”

Rey stared. He stared back. His arm was shaking slightly.

She snatched the money from him and immediately recoiled.

“Do you want me to walk you out?” he offered, finally managing to straighten himself.

“You’re a lunatic.”

Rey hadn’t intended to say it, but she meant it. His expression fell. Her hand reached behind herself, sliding the long forgotten knife back into its hidden pocket, and she fumbled blindly for the doorknob.

“So says the little thief who’s been stalking me,” he grumbled. “But I meant it. Do you want me to walk you to your motorcycle? You usually park it at the end of the block but this time I saw you parked it near the ATM and it’s a bad neighborhood. You’re carrying a lot of money with you.”

The worst part? The worst part by far? Rey didn’t hear a single trace of insincerity in his voice when he said that nonsense. Not a one.

She wrenched the door open, the cold of the night air stinging at the back of her neck. And then she turned and ran like hell.

*

It had been a karking miracle Rey hadn’t hit anyone on her ride back.

She had been a mess. Crying. Veering all across the road. If any cops had seen her, she’d have gotten pulled over for sure.

In that one singular, solitary aspect luck had been on her side.

Then it had left her as soon as she’d stepped back into Niima House. If halfway houses were for recovering addicts, Niima House was the court ordered solution for “recovering” criminals. Those who did lesser, non-violent crimes and the system simply didn’t have space for them in its prisons but still wanted to make a profit off their failed dregs.

Enter Rey’s probation officer, Unkar Plutt. He caught her only three steps in through the front door of the housing unit, and Rey cursed every fiber of her tortured psyche that her crawlies had leaped out to attack the creepy stranger but not Plutt, the bane of her daily existence.

“You look like shit,” he spat. Literally. A fleck of his spittle clung to Rey’s cheek and she fought the urge to gag when she smelled the tobacco that hung to his breath.

“I’ve had a rough night,” she muttered, weakly trying to drag her arm free from his ham-fisted hold.

He didn’t let up. He never did. Every last “case” that was assigned to him had been given the same deal: pay him off or he’ll say you broke the terms of your release. He didn’t care how you got the money, though Rey secretly suspected that the more illegal or unseemly methods only strengthened his despicable resolve.

“Two days late, garbage picker,” he growled. “Pay up or I’ve got a phone call to make.”

A meaty hand- one that looked suspiciously sticky- was extended into Rey’s view. Shoved right under her face, and she flinched back from it as far as his painfully tight grip on her would allow.

She hated Plutt. Rey never hated anything, it went against every fundamental part of her nature, but she _hated_ Plutt. She needed a way out of this endless cycle. Robbing petty prey wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to ghost herself, and that cost some serious coin.

Rey didn’t say a word as she slapped the second wad of money the stranger had given her into Plutt’s waiting hand.

He let her go with a shove, knocking her off her feet and onto the stained couch while he counted it.

Then he nodded. Rey had been watching him flip through the thick stack of bills. There had to have been at least a few thousand there, and her stomach twisted at the thought that she was giving all of that up to this despicable wreck standing in front of her.

“Same time next month, garbage picker.”

He turned from her, waddling back to his room at the foot of the stairs. As soon as his door slammed shut Rey made a bee-line straight for the shared shower room, desperately needing to erase every part of this hellish night from her mind and body.

*

It was well past midnight before Rey stopped crying into her pillow.

She had tried to smother the sounds of her misery as best as she could, not that there had been a point to it. Aside from her and Plutt, there were only three other people who lived here and they were all on probation just like she was. Hysterical sobbing at all hours of the night and day were par for the course at Niima House.

Rey already knew sleep wouldn’t come because it never fucking came. Not when her creepy crawlies felt like this.

They had been with her for her whole life. These phantoms of her mind. Sometimes they were so loud and bold it felt like a voice whispering right into her head. Other times they were an itch she couldn’t scratch, a miserable pricking along her spine.

If she had been born in another era, she would have been burned as a witch and she’d probably have deserved it too.

There was something wrong with her. Sometimes Rey scared herself. She was crazy. She was _abnormal_.

She didn’t even know if tonight had real. It had felt real. The blind panic. The pain in that stranger’s eyes after she had… had…

It had felt like she’d stuck one hand into a light socket and the other right into his chest and her body had been the karking conduit between them.

Rey gasped, her whole body shuddering with revulsion at the memory.

Then something under her cheek buzzed.

She froze. Waited. It buzzed again.

She gasped, shooting bolt upright. Immediately her hands dived underneath her pillow to where she had hid her stuff bag. She’d emptied out the Yoda figure and the calligraphy set, but she’d kept the first wad of cash there until she could find the strength to count it and see how much she’d been left with after Plutt’s shakedown.

About three hundred dollars. And a cellphone.

It buzzed again, vibrating against her palm as she gaped at it. Rey dropped it as if scalded, her mind racing across all possible outcomes.

The stranger’s phone. Obviously. She’d seen it in his hand and- and-

and somehow during their _encounter_ he must have slipped it into her bag.

Or maybe it fell in there by accident? That made more sense, right? During the chaos of the moment he might have just dropped it by-

Buzz.

Stupid karking girl.

Rey’s hands trembled so badly she almost dropped the phone against the hard linoleum floor at her feet. She tapped the on button and-

No passcode. Came right on without one. Rey paled at the screen, but not because of anything that she immediately saw. The background was some generic stock photo of an ocean. It probably came with the phone, for kark’s sake. All the apps were preinstalled too, but her heart sunk when she saw the little orange bubble hovering above ‘Messages’.

Nine.

Nine messages.

Rey held her breath as she double tapped. If this was _his_ phone, then these could be from anyone. Obviously any of the stranger’s numerous friends who he seemed to hold so dear as to never contact or interact with.

_unknown number- 12:48AM_

Rey’s eyes flicked to her bedside clock. It read 1:11AM. Twenty-three minutes ago she had been curled up in a ball and sobbing her eyes out. She’d been busy.

Click. Tap. Swipe.

_unknown number- 12:48AM_

_I’m not angry at you. You probably think I’m angry at you. I’m not._

Rey curled her knees into her chest, drawing her thin blanket tight around herself as the room suddenly seemed to drop twenty degrees.

_unknown number- 12:53AM_

_Did you get back to your home okay? Where do you live? What’s your name?_

_unknown number- 12:55AM_

_I’m worried about you._

Rey swallowed, her tongue suddenly feeling like a cotton ball filling her mouth. It was getting harder and harder to pretend these were from someone else.

_unknown number- 12:59AM_

_Where are you now? I can’t sleep._

Rey scoffed at that. A bitter, angry sound. Sleep had hardly come for the last year. She’d turned eighteen and _boom_ mic drop. Her creepy crawly phantoms had exploded into full blown psychosis.

_unknown number- 1: 03 AM_

_I’m moving tonight, not tomorrow. Just thought I’d tell you._

Rey kept scrolling, her thumb moving mechanically as her mind tried and failed to process this flip of events.

_unknown number- 1: 04 AM_

_I just thought I’d tell you that in case you wanted to rob me again. You won’t find me this time._

Fuck. Fuuuuck. There it was. There it fucking was.

_unknown number- 1: 04 AM_

_Did you take the other things too? Why?_

Rey bit her lip. Yeah, she’d taken his little keepsakes. Because she was pissed off. And desperate. She didn’t feel good about it, but turns out that hadn’t been the shittiest part of her night.

The messages ended there.

She quickly scrolled, her thumb rolling down as she tried to pan lower. The last three messages were marked as ‘deleted’. Whatever he’d said, he’d changed his mind on and unsent them before she could see whatever he’d said.

Rey fell backwards, not even trying to brace herself as the back of her head slammed itself against her thin pillow. This was so fucked. Her whole life and every facet of it was so profoundly fucked.

Time seemed to drag forever and there wasn’t a single blink of sleep to be had. Her crawlies were so quiet now they might as well have ceased to exist. Rey hated them almost as much as she hated Plutt. She was so fucking _broken_.

_Buzz_.

Rey had been holding the phone in her hand this whole time. She let out a shaky breath as the most ridiculous of all possible emotions rolled through her.

Rey didn’t want to see it. Or maybe she did. She should throw this karking phone into a river somewhere. Should do that right now before she-

Click. Swipe.

_unknown number- 1: 2 4 AM_

_Little thief, if you’re there, pick up. I think it’s time we talked._


	2. Creepy Old Man Anakin aka.....

_Six months later..._

Calling Creepy Old Man Anakin a creature of neurotic habit was an insult to any other creature-bearing title.

Rey wouldn’t call him a creature of the night either, because that implied he slept during the day. After four months of running surveillance- of laying in the karking dirt between tree roots and staring into his windows through binoculars- Rey was now convinced that her mark didn’t sleep _ever_.

No, Creepy Old Man Anakin wasn’t a creature at all. He lived in a high security mansion on top of a mountain and surrounded by an exclusive gated community where every resident hushed their voices when they had to walk past his driveway. He had left his home only four times in those four months. Same exact day each month, exact amount of time gone down to the minute. When he was home, he sat and _brooded_.

So her mark was basically a Bond Villain, right? Rey was about to rob a Bond Villain.

Tonight was really going to be a shit show, wasn’t it?

Rey crept out of her little hidey-hole and tried to shake some circulation back into her limbs. She’d spent far too many hours of her life curled up amongst those pine roots, and she knew that if she waited any longer her nerves would get the better of her and she wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

Tonight was the night. Tonight _had_ to be the night.

Scaling the perimeter wall was harder than it should have been. Rey had only done it once before and that had been a test run. She’d needed to find out exactly where the detectors were and how long it would take the police to come once she’d tripped the alarm. Now was the real deal. Now she was shaking, her gloved hands struggling to keep their grip on the edges of rough stone wall.

Her mask didn’t help either. With each tight breath she sucked in it pressed against her nose, a constant reminder that _this was really happening._ If she got caught now, she-

Rey dropped the final meter to the ground, letting the slight impact stop her thoughts for her. She moved with purpose, hunched under the cover of darkness and moving so silently she couldn’t even hear her own steps through the overgrown grass of the lawn.

So far so good. Or not. She hadn’t messed up yet, but Rey could feel it. Could feel that something was about to go wrong. Her creepy crawlies were in a frenzy tonight. They tightened her muscles, shortened her breath, and made her so very aware of everything when what she needed to do most was focus.

“Quiet, little monsters,” she whispered, her fingers flexing against the snug fit of her gloves.

Every step counted. Every movement had to be perfect. Once she got inside the alarm would trip, but she _would_ have enough time.

The problem was that her mark had been late. Creepy Old Man Anakin- a man that did so much obsessively predictable brooding and so little of anything else that Rey had taken to calling him COMA- had left his house seven minutes late tonight. Tonight of all nights. 10:07 instead of 10PM on the dot. The fact that the missing minutes it hadn’t even been a round number somehow made everything worse.

The moment her softly booted foot hit the marble edge of COMA’s patio her crawlies began to rage. No, more than rage, they practically _boiled_ under her skin. Rey crouched lower, gripped the floor, and tried to drown out the sounds of her madness. They had never been this bad before. On better days, her crawlies were like her annoying pets. Or a really obnoxious friend that would tap her on her left shoulder before standing behind her right. She’d done countless other heists before, and yet her crawlies had always made themselves known but never like this.

Tonight, they stopped her in her tracks. Her ears rang, a hum spilling through her head and locking her limbs in place. She genuinely couldn’t move. Rey felt her heart thundering, working itself nearly out of her chest to try and force blood to unresponsive limbs.

Was this- was she having a panic attack? _Now_? Now when she was dressed like a karking masked ninja and already well passed trespassing the point of no return?

_Find me._

The voice cut through, sharper and clearer than anything else. The roar of her crawlies dropped like a stone, and Rey’s head snapped up. Snapped _itself_ up. A hand grabbed the back of her head through her hood, yanking her by her hair to look up the mansion wall. She would have screamed, but there was suddenly no air left in her lungs.

What there _was_ was a window. One of the big bay windows leading into COMA’s master bedroom. Rey flinched, trying to jerk free and get the hell out of here before her creepy crawlies get her, when she saw herself reflected in the glass.

She was alone. No one standing above her, even though the pain of her hair being still dragged backwards was pulling her face tight. Even in the shadows of the night she saw her own petrified eyes shining back at her through their slit in her mask.

And then she saw something else. A light. A tiny, shifting light. It bobbed and danced like a firefly on the other side of the glass.

All at once the pressure was gone. Her crawlies ringing hum too. Rey collapsed, face planting against the cold marble patio floor. One shaking breath sucked in at the speed of lighting and then she spun around, flipping herself onto her back and bringing her legs up to kick the ever loving stars out of whoever had just attacked her.

Darkness and no one. Just the moon high above and the shifting tops of the pine trees between the two of them. Pitch silence fell. No ringing, no humming, Rey couldn’t even hear the sound of her heart even if she felt how hard it was pounding in her chest.

Click.

_Find me_.

Rey’s eyes widened. That voice again. She scrambled up to her knees then onto her toes, every move and breath and rustle of her clothes perfectly silent. A moment held suspended and quieter than the vacuum of space.

Click.

The firefly inside bobbed. An invisible compulsion pushed at her, and Rey edged forward. She pressed herself to the brick wall at the edge of the window and peered in.

Movement. It was dark inside, but Rey but faintly see someone. The firefly was a pin light. She wouldn’t even call it a flashlight, but it cast just enough of a blue LED glow to a form hunched down at the foot of COMA’s bed.

Scrape. Click. Click click.

Each sound was clearer than the last. There was a metallic quality to them. A hollowness.

Rey’s eyes widened so much her lashes brushed against both sides of the slit of her ninja mask. Someone was in there, in Creepy Old Man Anakin’s bedroom, and opening up his safe. That could only mean one thing.

Some rat bastard was about to steal her mark right out from under her!

Rey shoved herself away from the wall, a million thoughts stabbing indecision through her. Who? _How?_ Should she run? Give up? Is it over?

She had hidden her motorcycle nearby. It had been part of her getaway plan. All she had to do was run, scale the wall, and ride the hell out of here. In less than a minute this terrible idea would all be over.

But oh no. No, it _can’t_ be over, because if it is, then so is she.

_Go get him._

A shiver shot along her spine at the sound of the voice. Her crawlies returned, making her stomach lurch bu she pushed them back. Not now, little monsters. Now she’s got to ruin someone’s day before he ruins her life.

Rey ran. Sprinted across the patio with a new determination gripping her. Her crawlies practically bounced, a tingle racing across her skin as she bolts not for the far security wall but rather right to COMA’s front door.

Along the way were obstacles, but Rey felt elevated in her resolve. Elevated beyond the fetters of man. Neglected furniture and random gardening tools and of course the security system. Rey knew where every sensor was located. She was good at what she did. Duck, jump, or leap over. She didn’t trigger a single one. The faster she moved, the more her crawlies seemed to be egging her on. Faster than a bullet. Silenter than the still of the night. She was dressed like a ninja, now it was time to act like one.

When she reached the front door Rey pressed herself flush against the side of it. The door was slightly open. Just by a crack, but Rey knew what that meant. Whoever Rat Bastard was, he had gone inside this way. Chances were high that he’d come out the same too.

There was only one person Rey could think of that would do this. That would know that tonight was the night. Her stalker. _Ben_ . He knew that she was doing a Big Job tonight. Because she maybe had told him. But he didn’t know the where of it . She wasn’t _that_ stupid.

Rey slowly dropped to a crouch and pressed an ear at the crack in the door. She thought she heard something. Maybe movement. Maybe coming toward her. Rat Bastard Stalker was a sneaky fucker, she’d give him that.

_Go get him_.

Her eyes widened. That voice again, except this time she and her impending madness were in agreement. For a second her crawlies surged forward, her muscles locking down tight. Before panic could set in, the feeling retreated, leaving a new wash of strength in its wake.

The door burst open and Rey screamed, throwing herself into the darkness. If Rat Bastard was Stalky Stalkerson, she wasn’t going to go easy on him.

A body collided into hers so hard the air gets knocked out of her lungs. Somehow though, Rey has the upper hand. Her momentum shoved them both back, bodies falling and limbs sprawling together as they crashed to the hardwood floor of COMA’s foyer.

“What the-”

Rey punched him. She couldn’t see who it was, but punching someone in the dark comes surprisingly naturally to her. Pain flashed through her knuckles but it paled in comparison to the sharp cry the dark form made. Her stomach lurched at the sound. Fuck, she _hated_ violence. Then the body fell still, slack under her weight pinning it down.

Rey froze, punching duke raised in the air for round two. Under her the shape just sort of… didn’t move. Did- did she just kill him? Stalky? How the hell hard _had_ she hit him?

“Fuuu-”

There was a wet quality to the groan and Rey immediately recoiled. She tried to push her herself away, only to get bucked off and thrown to the side. Her back collided with something, knocking the wind out of her, followed immediately by a crash.

A very expensive sounding crash.

The room fills with light. Blinding, stabbing light. Rey reeled back, her hands uselessly swatting through the air as she heard rather than saw movement in front of her.

_Stop him_.

Yeah yeah, crawlies, I’m karking working on it!

The alarm started to screech at the exact same moment she blindly lunged forward and tackled Rat Bastard for the second time. For a second all she can see is two bluer than blue eyes staring up at her in shock.

“You- you’re not Stalky.”

It was The Jogger. The one and only person who had ever nearly caught her lurking outside COMA’s wall. It had been back during the start of surveillance month two when she had left her hidey hole to heed the call of her bladder and this blond beachy mimbo had very nearly literally caught her with her pants down.

He’d laughed and called her New Girl and asked if she wanted to go jogging with him. In the night. In the woods. Hard pass.

“Who the hell are you?”

Jogger Boy shoved her off him and scrambled up to his feet. His nose was bloody and it looked like a black eye was in the works as well. Fool hadn’t covered his face though, and Rey knew there were probably enough cameras trained on him right now that the police could make a 3D render.

When she didn’t answer he tried to move but Rey leapt faster, blocking the exit door with her body. The alarm kept screech screech screeching away, the whole mansion and she’s sure the grounds now lit up like broad daylight.

“Give me the money,” she demanded, her voice muffled through the fabric of her mask.

Jogger’s eyes widened as he took her in. She had taken wide, hunched stance, limbs spread across both sides of the door. She’d punched the hell out of him and was dressed like a ninja for kark’s sake, Rey was just hoping that and the shock value of that would be enough.

“Money!” she repeats, jutting her gloved hand out.

Jogger Boy blinked. Rey eyed the backpack he was wearing. Nothing in his hands. That had to be it. If she could just-

He charged. Tackled. Tried to shove her out of the way but faster then the blink of an eye Rey’s crawlies took over. Her arm surged out, her whole weight being thrown into the punch. She hit him _hard_ right in the center of his chest and Jogger Boy all but flew backwards. He collapsed on the floor, his body shaking with coughs and his messy blond mercifully hair flopped forward and mercifully hid he pain that she’d caused.

Rey stared at her hand in disbelief. Did she… really do that? How?

_Look up_.

The voice cut through the continual cranial-piece of the alarms. Rey’s head snapped up of its own accord, jerked back so suddenly she might genuinely have whiplash.

Resting above the front door is a katana. A motherfucking katana. Suddenly she went from Bond to Tarantino in the blink of an eye. Her prize was perched on two delicate little hooks like an offering to the gods. For a second Rey can’t look away. Literally can’t look away. The creep-creeping that had snapped her neck back locks its grasp now on her head, keeping her gaping at that pretty decorative blade.

_Take it._

The voice demanded it, but from the corner of Rey’s eye can see Jogger Boy dragging himself upright. He lunged forward, running towards her immobilized body, and the creep-creeping snapped. Pure adrenaline shot through her, hitting her like a lightning bolt. One second Rey was locked in place on the ground, then the next she jumped, her hands grabbing the top of the door frame first and then the handle of the blade moment later.

Then she dropped, control of her limbs coming back to her and as she nearly impales New Guy on the weapon in her hands.

They both stumbled back, New Guy’s eyes now almost comically wide as he gapes at her.

“Are you- is that a karking sword?”

Katana. Not a sword. And Rey doesn’t know _how_ she came to be holding it, but she just karking well is so-

“Give me the money and I won’t have to hurt you!”

She had to shout it over the alarms. In the distance she hears sirens. The police were coming. Jogger Boy must have heard it to but he takes a step forward, not back.

“I can’t do that,” he answered, his hands raising into the air even as he moved closer.

“Money or _else_.”

Rey growled out the last word. She tried to make the sound menacing. She’s in a freaking ninja costume and holding a katana. He _has_ to give her the money, right?

Fucking hopefully so because even the thought of using this on him made her stomach start to squeeze itself so tightly there might literally be a bladder failure imminent. The police are going to have a karking field day when they review tonight’s footage.

“Are you seriously about to rob be at swordpoint?”

Jogger Boy seemed to be sizing her up. Judging his odds, no doubt. When he took a step closer Rey poked him in the chest with the blade at him like it was a kabob skewer. Jogger Boy looked down at her legs. She was shaking like a leaf, and now they both knew why.

The thing was, Rey didn’t think she could actually do it. She’s seen Tarantino. Katanas equal blood-geyser. Like a _literal geyser of blood_. Darkness flickered at the edges of her vision as he reached a hand out.

“New Girl, don’t make me do this.”

His voice was eerily calm and Rey’s heart flipped while her stomach flopped. He… he knew. He knew who she was. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.

Jogger Boy wrapped his hand around the fluttering blade and a curtain of silence fell. Suddenly everything was gone. No more alarms. No police sirens. Suddenly Rey’s having a very hard time thinking clearly. It’s like her mind is trapped in a cloud, the space between it and her will moving further and further apart.

“ _Give me the keys to your motorcycle.”_

The words sound like they’re being spoken right into her head. She saw Jogger Boy’s lips move, but the sound seemed to jump instead of travel. Immediately Rey feels dizzy, so lightheaded that she had to lean against the door frame.

Her motorcycle. How could he possibly know about that? Rey was good at what she did. He couldn’t know.

He did.

The sword was pulled free from her hand. It clattered to the floor and Rey doesn’t fight it. Can’t fight it. All she can see is two bluer than blue eyes that stared right back into her own. Everything else became a tunnel that wavered and flickered and meant nothing.

Dimly, in the furthest echoes of the distance, she heard the police sirens start to oscillate. That meant they’re at the bend in the driveway. They’re nearly at the front gate.

She's nearly out of time.

“ _Give me the keys,”_ the blue eyed voice repeats. It’s a true echo now, Rey isn’t sure if his lips moved at all this time

Mechanically, Rey reached into her waistband pocket. Her arm extended in stages, each movement of the joints a contested battleground. Jogger Boy’s fingers grazed her glove as he took them from her, and her eyes widened as his next command echoed through the frozen dimness of her mind.

“ _You will hold still and count to ten_ ,” the echo demanded. “ _And then you will run._ ”

Not even her crawlies could save her. Rey knew they’re still there, leaping under her skin and trying to break whatever was happening.

Rey sucked in a breath, the fabric of her mask pulling against her teeth before going slack. The curtain dropped and Jogger Boy just stepped around her. She still couldn’t move. Couldn’t even turn her head.

One.

The alarms pierced through first. Hit her cranium and the shock of it sent her crashing to her knees. Behind her she heard shouting. Doors slamming.

Two.

Rey fought. Fought with everything she had. Her crawlies stung, her whole body feeling like it was on fire but there was no way to put herself out.

Three.

The roar of her motorcycle. Rey’s numb fear bloomed into outrage. No, it didn’t bloom. It fucking supernovaed.

Four.

More shouting. Rey’s arm jerked out, punching the floor. The pain of it shocked through her, cutting through the fog still suffocating her mind.

Five.

The creep creep creeping came back. Her crawlies returned in full force, bringing control slamming back through her. She stumbled forward blindly, scrambling back up to her feet just as she heard the front door being thrown open.

There was no six. Rey _ran_. Ran as fast she could away from the police and towards the back of Creepy Old Man Anakin’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was young ‘A New Hope Era Luke Skywalker’ up there. We’ve officially entered the “anything goes” stage of the fandom and he was one of my all time favorite movie characters (top 5 at least) so I just had to have him in here. Don’t worry though, despite the slight ‘meet cute’ moment above, he’s NOT going to be a love interest with Rey. That would just be too weird and, anyhow, that’s what her Stalker Stalkerson’s for ;) YoungLuke! however will be a major reoccurring character. He’s a fundamental NPC, basically!


	3. My Own Worst Enemy

The Little Thief was using a _commercial_ _app_ to try and hide her phone’s location.

It was cute.

Ben cracked his first smile of the day when he saw that. Like, the thought was there, right? Little Thief was obviously very smart, he’ll give her that. She knew enough that the phone he’d slipped into her bag could be tracked. Tracked by him or probably she was afraid he’d turn her into the police and they’d be able to get her location. That made sense, even if she was totally wrong about that.

Not that Ben was going to do that. Not at all. Calling the police on his unexpected guest was literally one of the very last things he thought he was capable of. Sometimes though he wondered why she didn’t just keep his phone off? She wasn’t answering any of his texts, but he got notifications every time she opened them. Which was every time. He sent, she looked, she ignored, he persisted. It had a nice, spiritually pleasing circularity to it. 

She’d covered up the cameras, though. Both of them, front and back, and with something totally opaque (electrical tape, probably). Smart girl, right? But Ben still kinda wished she hadn’t so he could see her.

He didn’t remember what color her eyes were. Things had gotten kind of “hnnnnnn” last night when they’d met face to face. Not ideal, but not not-ideal either. Sure, she’d nearly short circuited his heart (by what he assumes is accident) but that’s fine. 

He can work with that. He’d _felt_ her. Felt what was inside her. That’s what mattered.

_Me – 1:46AM_

_I don’t like my new apartment._

Ben’s finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before shrugging and pressing it.

His new place doesn’t have any windows. A concrete shoe box, and quite a depressing one even by those standards. Still, it served its purpose he supposed.

_Me – 1:47AM_

_I feel like I’m in prison. You wouldn’t be able to spy on me so easily here._

He waited patiently. Ben wondered if that was a sign of progress for him. He never did anything patiently. Snoke had told him this was a sign of obsessive tendencies. That if he couldn’t keep them under control, they would need to be addressed at their next session. He knew what that meant.

Another minute creaked by. It should have been unbearable, this waiting game. It wasn’t. Progress.

The little star appeared simultaneously with the ‘ping’. That meant that Little Thief had read it.

_Me – 1:51AM_

_Do you also have trouble sleeping? I feel like I haven't slept in a year._

Maybe he just had to say the right thing to her to get her to respond? Ben tried to think of everything he knew about her. It wasn’t a long list.

_Me – 1:52AM_

_I mean that literally. Not exaggerating. It probably sounds like I’m exaggerating but I’m not. I think it’s been a year now, give or take, since I actually rested when I slept._

Ben strummed his fingers against the bed sheet. Should he not be doing this in bed? Texting a girl? It was nearly 2AM so it made sense that he would be laying in bed. Probably she was as well. Hmmm… Maybe he should stand up and be more chivalrous with his manners? It’s not like he was going to get any rest tonight anyhow.

Star. Ping.

No answer.

Ben sighed. He glared up at the shadows of the ceiling of his concrete box. This really _was_ a shitty apartment. Next door his neighbors were having sex. Again. This was the third time tonight. Weren’t they bored with it yet? It was annoying.

Still no answer.

Or maybe annoying was unfair. They were totally quiet about it, his concrete shoebox had thick walls at least, but Ben could still feel them. Feel how their emotions rose and feelings of what he assumed were passion and love boiled over along with them.

Come on, Little Thief. Take the bait.

_ Me – 1:56AM _

_ Did you have a good day today? What did you do? Find any _

Ben paused, debating if he should ask that or not. She might misunderstand his meaning. Would that sound like he was angry with her? He wasn’t. Maybe a little peeved about Yoda. 

He wanted to make a good impression. He’d apparently made a really bad first one, considering how she’d reacted.

Okay, don’t ask her if she found any new prospects to rob. He genuinely was curious, but… if it felt wrong in his head, it probably really was wrong. 

Send. It was an incomplete message but that’s fine.

Ping. Star. Almost immediate.

Ben felt his pulse rise a little in anticipation. Was this finally going to be it? Maybe bad grammar and incorrect sentence structure was too provoking for her to ignore?

No. Answer.

Oh for kark’s sake. Another wave of desire just radiated through the concrete wall. Really you two? Aren’t you going to get chafing? Don’t you have to get up in the morning and go to that job that one of you hates and the other is bored but accepting of? Isn’t that level of mediocrity enough motivation to give it a karking rest?

Ben sighed and got up. He took his phone with him as he trudged to the small space that passed for his new living room. This part of the house smelled bad, like a potato that had gone off, but at least the neighbor on this new side of the wall was a heavy sleeper. Tonight he was dreaming about… making a tuna sandwich? Oh yes, he was dreaming about making one and then he _was planning on eating it._ The emphasis had been entirely the neighbor’s own, and Ben pushed the thoughts out of his mind with a shake of his head. It seemed like a waste o brain electrons but sure, Ben would trade with him in a heartbeat. His own dreams were… problematic. Snoke’s words. Fishy sandwich dreams beat blood soaked nightmares any day of the year.

All was still silent and dark from his phone. Nothing. Nic. Nada. Nothing.

“Please answer.”

He spoke it into the mouthpiece of his new phone even though obviously she wouldn’t hear him. Maybe she’d sense his words, though. If she really was the same as him- whatever the hells _that_ was), then maybe she’d answer if he asked nicely enough?

Minutes crept by. Ben didn’t mind them. If he was waiting for her, then he wasn’t sleeping. It was better that way. He didn’t have to be afraid of himself right now.

There were a lot of things going on right now. It wasn’t that he wasn’t busy. Ben had a lot to do, despite however his guest probably thought otherwise. He’d missed his appointment with Snoke yesterday. If he’d gone, he would have missed her visit entirely. _That_ would have been a hard one to take. He might have had to act out, and he didn’t want to have to do that anymore.

Did she like his old apartment? What did she think about it when she saw it from the inside? He’d felt kind of bad that it had taken her that long to get her nerve up. He hadn’t been wrong, he used to live in a bad neighborhood. Every night he’d felt her out there watching him, he’d been extra attentive to the feelings of anyone that went past her. There had been only one problem. Little Thief hid herself well. But this one time…

Some- some- some schmuck had seen her after she’d parked her motorcycle. He’d liked the way her body had looked as she walked away. Then she’d disappeared and the _s_ _c_ _hmuck_ had gotten angry. He’d called her some very unchivalrous words in his head. Ben had… he’d almost…

He’d had to call Snoke. He’d needed to be talked down. By the gods he hadn't wanted to do that. Their next session after that had been a really bad one.

_Find me._

Ben’s eyes had started to slide closed. He’d started to feel the pull, but the voice in his head snaps him right back to awareness.

“Little Thief?” he asked no one as he compulsively checked his phone.

2:47AM

Still no answer. Should he message her again? If she was sleeping, it might wake her up. He didn’t want to do that. At least one of them should be able to get some rest if they could.

Ben sighed and turned off his phone. The temptation to look up her address was intense. But if he did that... Ben knew himself. He knew what would happen next. Just knowing the street her location kept pinging at was almost too much.

Maybe Snoke was right. He really was a danger to others, not just himself. Ben had been able to convince him so far that his _thoughts_ were entirely self-directional, but it was like his therapist had a built-in bullshit detector. He knew. Ben knew he knew. That’s why he had to move. He couldn't risk Snoke figuring out his plan and sending someone to go get him.

Temptation snapped sharper than the KitKat his hungry neighbor was now dreaming about. Ben’s stomach grumbled in sympathy, how messed up was that?

_Me – 2:54AM_

_Are you awake?_

Ben pressed his lips together. Someone down the hallway of what Ben referred to as the Shoebox Chateau slammed a door. They were angry about something. Oh, because they had to go to work early. Like really early.

No star. No ping.

“Sleep well.”

Ben puts the phone down and resolves to not answer it until the sun was up. He makes it another hour and seven minutes.

*

“Have you been exhibiting stalking tendencies again?”

Ben swallowed, taking a moment before answering.

“No. I feel a lot better. I think the new medication has really been working for me.”

Silence from the other end of the line. Snoke had wanted to meet him in person, but Ben had finally managed to convince him that they could have this week’s session over the phone. That had been where his good luck had come to an end.

“Why are you lying?”

Snoke’s voice had a dangerous edge to it. Ben knew he needed to be careful. Him moving and not telling his therapist the new address had already sent cracks all around the thin ice he was treading on.

“Someone broke into my apartment the other day.”

Misdirection. Snoke would sense that- the cagey karker seemed to sense _everything_ \- but Ben was hoping that willingly offering up that juicy nugget of information would be enough to buy him some slack.

“When?” 

Don’t make a sigh of relief. Don’t let your breathing change at all.

“The day before I moved. Or the night, technically. I went out and… they didn’t find anything. They just took some cash and that was it.”

That was the trick with Snoke’s bullshit detector. Don’t lie. Say what really happened. Just be selective and maybe shift a few things like turning a “she” into a “they”. Because, who knows, maybe Little Thief had someone else who knew she was doing this? Not a lie. _Not_ a lie.

“Is that why you moved? You didn’t feel safe in your old home after that tragedy?”

Ben swallowed. Shit. Hard to impossible to be selective with that one.

“I felt safe,” he admitted, “I just didn’t want to live there anymore.”

Another long silence. Ben started to fidget, pacing his tiny shoe box in quick strides. His eyes fell onto a picture of his parents. Snoke had said he should keep the photo somewhere he would see everyday. Which he hadn’t been until Snoke had asked him directly if he was and he had to put the picture up so he could be selective.

“Ben, you know that I’m going to have to report your change of address to the council. They didn’t approve that. You didn’t clear it with me. This is going to be very bad on your record.”

Ben grimaced. Saw that one coming. He was running dangerously short on time.

“I just needed a change of scenery, okay?” Not a lie. Not even a “selection”. Ben needed to be gone. 

“You’re not allowed to leave the state.”

Snoke’s voice was getting sharper and angrier by the syllable. Bern had known he’d be pissed off but in a way this was good. Keep his therapist’s focus on _that_ and not on other things.

“I didn’t leave the state. I didn’t even leave the town.”

No lie again. He didn’t ave to leave town. Lucky for him the great city of Jakku had no shortage of shithole housing where enough cold, hard cash could buy you a month or two “no questions asked”.

“I’m scheduling an appointment at 9PM tomorrow,” Snoke growled. “Do not be late.”

He punched the emphasis on each of those four last words. Ben nodded, his head bobbing against the phone before he remembered that no, Snoke couldn’t see that.

“I won’t be.”

His phone chirped, signaling the call had been ended. 

Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck. Tomorrow’s session was going to be really bad. Hopefully it would be his last, but that would depend on something actually going right for a change.

Tonight though, Ben would actually let himself sleep. His nightmares would come, but maybe they had a silver lining. If they got bad enough- and Ben had a sinking gut feeling htat they would- then maybe he could talk about them with Snoke instead of… instead of letting anything slip. 

Something good would come with the bad. Maybe. 

*

_Two nights later._

Ben really wanted her to answer. He really, really did.

_Me – 1:40AM_

_Sometimes I wish I didn’t live alone. Like, I need to. It’s a non-negotiable. But sometimes I wish there was someone around me here and not just on the outside of these walls._

Ben glares at the picture of his parents as he waited for the ping. He felt _nothing_ for them. No hatred or anger or affection. A literal absence of emotion toward the perfectly dressed, smiling couple in the photograph.

Sometimes Ben wondered f they were even really his parents. He didn’t look like either of them. He felt not a single emotion one way or the other for either of them. Even the memories he had of them felt… off. Was he really that much of a sociopath?

_Ping._

Ben smiled. The movement felt awkward. He could see his own reflection in the phone’s screen and he subtly tipped it so he wouldn’t have to look at himself.

_Me – 1:43AM_

_Was the money enough? I would have given you more but I’d hit my daily withdrawal limit on my card._

Ping. No answer, but Little Thief's silence was a form of communication in itself, right?

_Me – 1:44AM_

_Do ever feeling like something’s wrong?_

_Find me._

That voice again. Ben crunched his eyes closed and waited for it to pass. Tick tock, tick tock.

Ping.

She’d read it. Didn’t answer. He didn’t mind.

Didn’t mind _too_ much.

_Me – 1:46AM_

_Goodnight, Little Thief. Same time again tomorrow?_

His neighbor was thinking about food again. The other neighbors were giving each other the silent treatment because of… ah, fuck it. Ben didn’t actually care. He was just dreading having to feel their inevitable makeup sex in a day or sooner.

Ping.

*

_Thirteen days later._

_Me – 2:37AM_

_Why did you take my Yoda? I hope you didn’t sell it._

Losing the calligraphy set had was annoying, but the Yoda was a loss. Senator Organa had given it to him years ago. Back when he was still on speaking terms with his old mentor. Back before he’d had to cut her off for her own sake. He still missed that nice, sad-eyed old lady though. The way she always used to look at him had made him feel like there was something she’d always wanted to tell him but… didn’t.

_Me – 2:39AM_

_Please tell me you didn’t sell it. It was given to me by someone._

Ben rolled his eyes at himself. Well obviously it had been given to him by someone. He made it sound like the other option was that he’d conjured the little figurine right out of thin air.

Ping.

Yeah, yeah, she’s reading his messages. Ben really needs more than that, though. Escalation. He hadn’t looked up her address though. Not _yet_.

_Me – 2:40AM_

_If you sold it to someone, can you at least tell me who so I can get it back? Come on, Little Thief, you can at least do that._

Ping.

Okay. Maybe he’d looked up the street she lived on. But that was it. He didn’t know which building it was. He’d just looked up the street name. Nothing wrong with that. That was all. Scout’s honor.

_Me – 2:42AM_

_Did you sell it? Please tell me if you did. Or didn’t. Please._

The vacant, soulless eyes of his “parents” beam back at him. Ben grunted, pushing himself off his sofa to stomp over to the shelf and flip them face down.

Ping.

He sighed. Should he dream tonight or stay up all night? Maybe his nightmares would at least give him some place else to be.

_Ping._

Ben froze. It felt like his heart stopped too. Slowly, so very excruciatingly slowly, he rotated his wrist so his phone faced up.

_One new message._

It was from his old number. His old phone.

Oh. Little Thief.

He flinched as he tapped it.

_Old Phone – 2:45AM_

_I didn’t sell it. I still have it._

Ben grinned. Actually full on grinned. His mind started to spin, racing circles around itself with all the things he could say. _Should_ say. But first? First he changed her contact name. His Little Thief deserved that much at least.

*

_Two months later._

Ben was still here.

He’d thought he would have been gone by now. Ghosted himself or maybe become a ghost.

He was still here. He’d had to move twice more. Hux had nearly caught him the first time, then Snoke himself the second. The fact that no one from the council had shown up though… that told Ben plenty. Snoke wasn’t going to turn him in. Or, at least, not yet.

_Me – 1:11AM_

_I think I’m going to call you Grace. New apartment. New neighbors. New me. New you._

Since the first night she’d texted him back, his nightmares had gotten better. Shorter. Less violent. Still very much there, but Ben almost felt like a new man. All thanks to… to… Grace?

He rolls the new moniker around in his mind. Mouths it into the dark night air. It’s not right. He only told her that to get a rise out of her.

Ping. Star. She read it, now Ben just had to wait and see how his sleep would be tonight.

_Little Thief – 1:13AM_

_Grace? I don’t get it._

Well she had _tons_ of grace, electro-shocking him incident notwithstanding. But that wasn’t why he’d given her that new name.

_Me– 1:13AM_

_You were a thief. I’d caught you. Get it?_

Outside of his latest apartment a car door opened and closed. Ben glared at it, daring anyone to bother him right now. An impulse of boredom reaches him but fades as its owner walks away. Just someone parking their car on the street. Karking people. People were the worst.

Ping. Ping.

_Little Thief – 1:15AM_

_Ben? What the hell are you talking about?_

No really bad nightmares tonight. Only regular to mild ones. Success.

_Me– 1:16AM_

_Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Hitchcock. You said you liked old movies._

Ping.

Ben waited. He could wait. _Grace_ was smart enough to figure it out.

_Little Thief – 1:19AM_

_I look nothing like Grace Kelly._

True, but-

Ping. Ben raised an eyebrow.

_Little Thief – 1:19AM_

_And besides, I don’t like being named after someone else. A nickname, sure, for don’t name me after some other person._

Oh.

Well… he hadn’t meant anything by it. He just thought that… hmmm…

_Me– 1:20AM_

_If you told me your real name I’d call you by it._

Or he’d call her whatever she wanted her to call him, but he’d prefer if it was her real name. Except they’d been over this before.

Ping. Ping.

_Little Thief – 1:21AM_

_Ben, we’ve been over this before._

He smiled until his face hurt. Ben honestly didn’t think he could smile any wider.

_Me– 1:21AM_

_Little Thief. Grace. Stranger in the Nigh_ t.

He could keep going. He _would_ keep going. Ben’s mind started to race with the possibilities. This could be fun.

_Little Thief – 1:24AM_

_Are you thinking about all the things you’re going to call me now?_

Okay, he was wrong. He _could_ smile wider after all.

His fingers moved in a flurry.

_Me– 1:24AM_

_No._

_Me– 1:24AM_

_Maybe._

_Me– 1:25AM_

_Cat burglar. Cat thief. Queen of cat thieves. Mary, Queen of Cat Thieves._

The next two pings happen in such rapid succession they were almost one noise.

_Little Thief – 1:25AM_

_It’s Rey._

Ben’s mind came to a stuttering stop just as it was working its way around “Priscilla, Queen of the Cat Thiefdom”.

Oh. Shit. He hadn’t expected that.

Now he had her address _and_ her name. This was dangerous. This was almost too good. And he can’t change her contact information fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben in this version is a little younger than canon. I’m thinking he’s around 24 maybe. I’m planning on having an older version of the character later on (you’ll see what I mean in due time). Rey here I think is 19. Next chapter is going to take off right where chapter 2 ended with Rey running away from certain arrest in COMA’s home.
> 
> Oh, and a huge thank you to everyone who read and commented or gave me kudos! This story has gotten a mild but very present response which is way more than I thought it would The whole “very AU with a fixed shelf life and a probably unresolved cliffhanger” is a pretty darned hard sell I know. But for those of you reading thank you thank you thank you! Every comment means so much to me :D
> 
> And, as always, you can find me on tumblr at [ lost-inthesunlight](https://lost-inthesunlight.tumblr.com/) or on twitter at [ @Ava_Avdal](https://twitter.com/Ava_Avdal) :)


	4. Run Little Bunny

Rey ran faster than a jackrabbit caught in a tornado.

Somebody shouted. They saw her. Movement and chaos behind her but Rey wasn’t stopping. She _couldn’t_ get caught. Not like this.

Her escape was so frantic it was practically blind, her veins pumping burning hot blood through her body and her mind leaping two moves ahead of itself. Her legs propelled her faster than possible. Literally, not figuratively, with inhuman speed. The creeping energy settled in her spine, and even though the voice is gone she can still hear it over the pounding of her heart.

The word ‘taser!’ pierced the air and it was immediately followed by a loud bang and a snap right behind her. If it hit her, she felt nothing. The door to the master bedroom is open and Rey dived in and slammed it shut half a moment before something cracks against it.

Footsteps pound closer but she’s already grabbed the empty safe. Rey doesn’t think. She’s moving on impulse and she’s moving _fast_.

The window smashes and she’s out. Glass and grass rhyme as they cut into her knees.

_Move._

The creep creeping voice comes back to demand it of her. Another flash of pure energy raced through her, and Rey’s limbs moved on their own will. She was being puppetted by her crawlies with no power to stop them but yeah, it seemed like they had the right idea. _Move_.

Rey was at the stone wall on the far side of the yard before the police even reached the window she’d broken. Her body started to shake, the energy wavering and her eyes widen. No! Creepy creepy, don’t leave me now!

This time Rey gave into it fully. Focuses on that feeling. This is the first time she’s ever tried to not bury it. Either she’s totally fucking lost it and is tripping monkey balls or-

Or something the fuck else but she doesn’t have time to think. She can ponder her own descent into madness later, because right now her body is moving without her again. Rey climbed the nearly smooth, towering stone wall surrounding COMA’s mansion like she was a spider playing hopscotch. Like it’s fucking nothing.

A light flashed, catching her in it and Rey’s body leapt forward and sent itself plummeting over the edge.

And she landed on her feet. She’d just fallen a solid twenty feet and nailed the landing. Her crawlies- her crawlies kinda rock! Either that or madness was actually highly underrated.

Her head snapped up, her focus fall on the distance ahead and not the chaos of a full on police raid raging behind her. Disappearing into the night horizon is a single red light racing away. Her motorcycle. _Jogger Boy_. For one crazy second Rey almost thinks she can catch it. Like she could just reach out and… and will it fly back to her.

Then red and blue flashed behind her. Police cars were giving chase, looking for her, and she’s crouched right by the wall they’re going to drive right past in just a few seconds.

Fuck.

The adrenaline hit her hard enough that she almost flied up to her feet. That feeling, that fucking crazy creeping _feeling_ , rears its head again, slamming through her and propelling her limbs forward. Her body dived ahead, leaping itself across the both lanes of the road in one single bound.

Behind her brakes screeched. Doors slammed and more frantic, angry shouting. Something about stop or-

Or Rey doesn’t hear the second part. She’s running again. Racing down the steep and unstable hillside away from COMA’s complex. That energy is all encompassing, like the biggest adrenaline rush she’s ever felt but times a thousand. She should be dead right now. Shot or tasered and being taken back to prison for a fate far worse.

The beam of a flashlight grazed over her, catching her in its crosshairs and Rey’s heart lurched. They really might shoot her in the back so she dived, blindly ducking and tucking her knees in tight to her chest as she rolls. The steep sides of the hill actually save her, though, obvious risk of breaking her neck aside.

Rey couldn’t stop it, though. Literally couldn’t stop moving. She wasn’t in charge anymore. Her legs were burning, but they weren’t slowing. Up ahead were even _more_ police lights tearing up the road. The city limits and freedom were beyond them. She just had to make it down this now perilously steep, rocky slope without killing herself.

_That’s enough. Not yet._

The voice came back to her ears so loud and clear that she screamed. Rey’s body stumbled to a stop, nearly loosing her footing, but when she spun around there was just the shadows of a dark mountainside at night and a chaos of red and blue lights coming up and down and all around. Kark, how many fucking police did COMAs security system really call?

_Get down._

A massive impact slammed into her, knocking her face-first into the ground. Rey tried to scream, earning herself just a mouthful of dirt as an unseen force held her down. Her whole body is pinned flat to the earth. Like a- like a giant or something is stepping on her and holding her in place with its foot.

Twin lights flashed directly where she’d been standing. Somewhere ahead of her she hears a car stop and a door slam. The pressure on her back deepened, grinding her even flatter against the ground. It takes every single ounce of Rey’s energy to turn her head even just a little.

Out of the corner of her eyes she can see a car stopped about three hundred meters ahead of her. The main road up the mountain is behind it, and two police cars flash further in the distance. No red and blue lights on this car, though. This is someone _different_.

The beam of a flashlight bounced around, scanning first higher above on the hillside before moving lower out of Rey's limited field of sight.

There was a pause, an agonizingly long pause, and then the beam shifted up. Right to where she’d been standing before she’d been struck down. Next it swooped closer and to the left, the dimmer edge of it less than a foot away from her masked face. She was in head to toe black under the cover of darkness, but if they shined the light even just a little to the right there was no way they’d miss her, even bug-squished to the dirt like she was now.

The beam holds that spot for a moment. The pressure on her back stayed steady and constant. She can barely even blink, let alone breathe, that’s how hard she’s being squeezed.

Then the light flicks off. The headlights wavered again. Rey can faintly hear a man’s voice saying something. It sounds like he’s talking to someone, but she doesn’t hear a second voice. On a phone, maybe?

Finally comes the distant hum of ignition. Another few agonizing seconds squeaked by before the headlights rolled away. Finally the weight holding her down slackened before disappearing completely. For several long moments Rey could only lay there stunned. The creep creeping is gone. The weight is gone.

Then Rey remembered to breathe. She hadn’t for the whole time the flashlight had been searching for her. With a dizzy grunt she flipped over, kicking her feet out under her and ready to run or fight for her life to whomever had just attacked her. Or arguably saved her.

No one. Nothing. Just darkness.

Oh. Rey almost isn’t surprised. She was right all along. She’s losing her fucking shit. This literally was insanity. The creep creepies had gotten her finally. Had _any_ of this really happened? Was she even here? Had someone gotten to her and she was locked up in an insane asylum and this was what her creep creepy decimated mind had conjured up to entertain iteself.

Except the rocks digging into her palms felt very real. The adrenaline high was ebbing and the night air was cold. There were probably dozens of red and blue lights flashing away in the distance, swarming the creepy old man gated community looking for… for a ninja and a pretty blond boy who had torn off into the night on _her_ _motorcycle._

“Mother. Fucker.”

Rey snatched off her mask and pushed herself up to standing. Her whole body aches. No, far worse than simply aches. It feels utterly destroyed, like she’d just run a marathon on an empty stomach.

But she can move again. Rey was back in control of herself, and there would be plenty of time to wonder _what in all the hells_ just happened after she gets herself out of here.

As Rey jogged down the last of the slope she yanks off the top of her makeshift ninja-cat burglar outfit. Under it she’s wearing a tight black tank top. Paired with her loose black pants it kinda looks like something a normal person would wear. She probably the crazy eyes and looks like a total nutjob from the neck up, but this is the best she can do. When Jogger Boy had stolen her bike, he’d taken her “I’m just a normal girl, nothing to see here officers” change of clothes along with him

Also one of her fake IDs. That would get him nowhere but still a pity. Those things weren’t cheap. Karker.

But that wasn’t the Big Problem. The big bad thing that might just destroy her yet. She hadn’t gotten the money. The fucking money. Not a single cent of it. She had just spent all those long gods-be-damned months peeping on a creepy old nutjob for _nothing_.

This was supposed to have been it. The last one. No more burglaries, Rey was supposed to leave that life and everything else that came along with it well and truly in the dust. That money would have bought her a new life.

And now she’d been robbed of that.

The defeat hurts almost worse then her fear had. She was… she was _fucked_. Plutt wanted his money tomorrow or he was going to turn her in. Her fucking probation officer didn’t fucking care that she was breaking into houses and literally risking her life, he just wanted his fucking cut to keep silent.

Maybe… maybe she can strike a deal with him. Buy herself another day. Then she’d have to do something drastic like- like-

Like what? Rob some liquor store with a toy gun?

It was about have to come down to that, wouldn’t it?

Rey stopped her jog and looked back over her shoulder, giving one last glare to Creepy Old Mansion. All lit up, every damned light in the whole neighborhood on and probably the police were canvassing around. She should have kept that karking katana. Pawned it so she would at least have _something._

Getting away from the police had been easy, but Rey knows that the hard part is only just beginning. What is she going to do? She had nothing left. Really? _What the hell is she going to do now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was so short. I really wanted to post it today and I figured short is better than waiting until much later, so I hope you liked it anyhow!
> 
> I may possibly rewrite this chapter a little later on. I’m having some second thoughts about the direction I want to take the next few chapters, but if I make any big changes I’ll summarize them in an authors note at the begging just to keep everyone up to speed :)
> 
> And as always a big thank to you everyone who’s been reading and commenting! You give me so much inspiration to keep going and the response to this fic really has been so much more than I’d braced for. You’re all the best!!!!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr at [ lost-inthesunlight](https://lost-inthesunlight.tumblr.com/) or on twitter at [ @Ava_Avdal](https://twitter.com/Ava_Avdal) :)


	5. I Feel it Too

There had been one saving grace to the whole disastrous shit show of a night.

Okay, there had been two. The first being the small but thank-fuck boon that she'd gotten back to Niima House without incident. Apparently every single policeman in town was on that hill checking up on the welfare of her Bond villain. It felt like the world's biggest overreaction to an incompetent burglary, really, but Rey will take it for the blessing it wasn't meant to be.

Boon number two had been that Plutt had drunk himself into a stupor. She'd crept by his room fully expecting him to barge right out then no matter that it was two or three or whenever in the morning by the time she'd jogged back. Money. Now. _Or else._

Rey didn't have an 'or else'. There was no karking Plan B. Plan Anakin had been it. Her do or die. And she hadn't do-ne.

She had jogged the whole way back seesawing between crying and trying to think of anything she could tell Plutt to buy herself time. Robbing a liquor store. It was pretty much going to have to come down to that tomorrow. Maybe she could convince Plutt that she'd be _really good_ at armed robbery. Even though Rey knew she'd be absolute shit at it. Honestly? Rey didn't think she'd even make it to the cash register before peeing herself and running out in a flurry of tears. Maybe some old lady handbags snatch and grabs would be a better choice. She could even keep her mask on for it and it just might work as long as granny wasn't packing heat.

Fumbled thoughts and terrible ideas were all Rey had as she unlocked the door to Niima house. The dim microwave in the communal room read 3:52AM. No Plutt waiting for her. No police either.

Instead, almost booming snoring had greeted her as she crept down the hallway past her probation officer's room. She'd peeked in, nearly recoiling from the putrid stench of spilled beer and possibly worse hanging heavily in the air. Plutt was slumped in his couch, snoring the night away while the screen in front of him showed-

Oh gods. He'd been watching porn. He'd fallen asleep watching porn. Barely legal (if that) porn, judging by the unsavory look of it.

Okay, unexpected boon number three. With the angle Plutt was slumped Rey couldn't see if he had his pants on or off. His shirt was off, pants elevation forever a mystery. And he was actually snoring louder than the suspiciously young looking girls on the screen were fake moaning.

The fact that this whole rancid scene was actually a highlight of Rey's night was… _fuck, she needed a drink._

Niima House also had a strict no alcohol policy. It also theoretically had an unspoken 'no, you can't blackmail your cases into doing crimes to pay you off'. So obviously there was wiggle room and Rey had a secret stash of some 170 proof glorified paint thinner she kept for just shit show nights like right now.

There were only two other "residents" at Niima House. Unsurprisingly there was a fast turnaround, with most of them either getting caught breaking the law and therefore the terms of their probation or in some cases turning themselves back in just so they wouldn't have to put up with Plutt's tyranny any longer. When Rey passed by the other surviving residents doors, all was quiet and dark. She knew every creak of the floorboards. This was hardly her first time sneaking back in late at night, but after what had just happened up there Rey didn't trust herself anymore.

Her crawlies were the physical manifestation of her losing her mind. They had to be, right? That was the only thing that made _sense_. Crazy AF people (yeah, yeah, Rey knew that wasn't PC to think, but this is her own damned headspace thankyou) said they would hallucinate sensations. Not just see things, but really feel them happening. Like the Salem witch trials and ergotism. Or not like that, but kind of.

So she's gone crazy, her creepies are all in her head, and… and she can jump really far. And run really fast. And- and possibly outrun bullets.

Best possible option? She was really locked up in a mental institution somewhere and not a single damned thing was really happening to her. That could work. Maybe she could shift her perception of reality Matrix style and bang Keanu Reeves. Silver lining to losing the plot and all that.

Half an hour slipped by, aided by her paint thinner Kentucky Gold, and her creepies hadn't returned. All quiet on that front, and Rey had finally pulled herself together enough to take the world's hottest, quietest shower. She was going to have to burn her ninja outfit. Not only were they now an _accessory_ to a witnessed crime, but even thinking about wearing them after her psycho spell made her skin crawl.

Bad karma. Really bad juujuu. Do not want.

Rey's hand was shaking badly as she forced down another painful gulp of Gold. It burned a track in her throat, but it helped with the tears. The feeling of complete and utter karking hopelessness.

Two hundred and eighty dollars. That was all she had to her name. The grand some she kept in that little nook behind her radiator that didn't work. Jogger Boy had done more than just take her motorcycle and fake ID, he'd taken her backup to the backup plan. The one that said she could just ride out of town and get as far as her gas money would take her. Rey had lied when she'd said she had no plan B because _that_ had been it. A plan Backup so bad that oh holy fuck surely it would never come to that?

So time to make an even worse decision. Literally her last and only possible action. The backup to the backup to the backup.

Rey dug her phone out from its spot next to the crepe-thickness "stack" of bills. _His_ phone, actually. Stalky Stalkerson.

Gods. _Gods_.

Seventeen unread messages. Yeah, there it was. This was what it had come down to.

Rey knew beyond a doubt that there had been more then just seventeen messages from Ben. He had a habit of blowing up her phone when she'd go on these heists. Then he'd delete whatever he'd been saying before she could read it. When she'd called him out on it, he'd said it was his "coping mechanism". Coping because he was worried that the woman who had robbed him at knifepoint was in trouble.

Apparently he had other ways of _coping_ , but he'd reassured her that he wasn't doing those with her. Whatever the hell that meant and kark, could that sound any less reassuring? Not remotely. Hence why asking Ben for money had been fallen so far down her list of acceptable options that it might as well have drilled through the earth and popped up in the eastern hemisphere, that's how _un_ acceptable it was.

Another miserable swill of burning hell and Rey shoved the bottle away, her stomach churning from more than just the rocket fuel demolishing her insides. She skimmed Stalky's messages without really looking at them. Glanced like all the usual stuff. Started off all 'hey, how's it going tonight?' to 'you aren't back yet? Should I be worried you aren't back yet?'

"Yeah, Psycho, _should_ you be worried?"

Rey muttered it bitterly, resting the top edge of her phone against her temple as she waited for the bedroom ceiling to stop swimming.

Lucky number seventeen had been him saying that if he doesn't hear back from her in twenty minutes he's calling the cops to rescue her. That had been an hour ago. Jokes on you, Stalky, she'd already gotten _all_ the good boys in blue of Niima called on her already tonight.

Might as well get on with it, Rey. This awkward text isn't going to fix iteself.

_Me_ _-_ _4_ _:_ _46_ _AM_

_Hey._

_Rey cringed as she hit send. She'd just sent Stalky the first word of_ _what could easily be construed as a post-_ _midnight booty call. So elegant was her prose. All she was missing was a 'you up' and 'pics plz'._

Her phone pinged his response immediately. If this had been anyone else Rey would have really been worried what he was about to say to her.

_SirBenjaminStalkerson- 4:46AM_

_REY! I'VE BEEN SO KARKING WORRIED!_

She rolled her eyes. Yep, this was going exactly like she had expected.

_Me_ _\- 4:4_ _6_ _AM_

_CapsLock, Ben. Your yelling is threatening to ruin my hangover._

Well technically she wasn't hungover yet, but oooh boy was it coming.

Rey waited, debating if she should stumble her way to the bathroom to get a drink of water. Probably. She knew she wouldn't, but she should.

Ping.

She tapped the message but in the time it took for her thumb to go from the edge of her phone to the button he'd deleted it.

Me- 4:47AM

_Ben, c'mon. I've had a rough night._

_Play nice, please. Rey isn't sure she can take her stalker's drama right now._

Another ping and Rey stopped eyeing the door in favor of giving in and settling down into her bed.

_SirBenjaminStalkerson- 4:4_ _8_ _AM_

_Tell me about it._

Tell me about it. Well that could be interpreted in several different ways, but after these last four months Rey had come to the conclusion that her stalker was a surprisingly open book. He wanted her to tell him about her day. It was… it was kind of sweet. Almost. All context aside.

_Me_ _\- 4:4_ _9_ _AM_

_The heist went to shit. Did you call the police on me?_

A pause. Then a ping. Delete. Ping. Delete.

_SirBenjaminStalkerson- 4:_ _51_ _AM_

_No._

Oh for fuck's sake. Rey knew he didn't call them. He'd been bluffing, or maybe he'd genuinely thought that she was in worse trouble than being arrested. Home burglaries could go south fast, and she'd slipped up months ago and told him that she'd been planning a really big, really dangerous one.

Ping.

_SirBenjaminStalkerson- 4:_ _52_ _AM_

_I was so worried about you. You give me better dreams but I was worried I'd only have nightmares tonight until I heard back from you. I didn't know what I could do to help you. I wanted to do something but I didn't know what._

Rey blinked at the longer wall of text. She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the screen in her unheated room.

And just like that they came back. Her crawlies. They were super quiet, probably muted with the Kentucky Gold and her overall full-body exhaustion, but Rey felt them strumming within her. Spying on this conversation, if you could call the stalker-to-thief late night texting that.

Rey took a deep breath in and out, waiting to see what either they or her stalker would do next. Nothing. Ball was in her court.

Okay. Bite the damned bullet.

_Me-_ _4:_ _57_ _AM_

_Ben I'm in trouble._

Oh fuck her sideways, was she really about to do this? Ask her karking mark for money? Did he even have any left? What if he'd voluntarily given her every cent he had to his name and was living in a cardboard box somewhere that had surprisingly good reception and-

_SirBenjaminStalkerson- 4:_ _58_ _AM_

_What do you need, Rey? What's wrong? Please tell me what's wrong._

He… he took the time to put a grammatically correct comma before her name. Who else does that? No one. No one texts like that.

Despite… well, despite everything, Rey cracked a smile. Her crawlies even seemed to approve, them shifting their skittering presence in her mind from one side to the other like an excited puppy.

Where to even begin, though? Tell him there had been someone else who got there first? That she'd lost the money she so desperately needed to some beach-blond-mimbo-jogger who had… hypnotized her? Or that he'd stolen her motorcycle and called the police on her (sort of) and then she'd dodged a taser and jumped across the path of a car and gotten flattened by an invisible giant's foot and all she had to thank for that was a mouthful of dirt and not even a karking katana?

Ping. Delete. Ping. Delete.

Yeah, yeah, Stalker. I'm here. Calm yourself along with my crawlies, I'm trying my best.

Somehow Rey feels like she can tell Ben the truth. Ben. It was a solid, honest sounding name. Not a Bond villain name. Maybe a smidge like a murderous Tarantino villain name, but Rey was pretty sure that Ben wouldn't judge her. He hadn't so far, and gods know she'd given him enough reasons to.

_Me_ _-_ _5:06_ _AM_

_Ben I think I'm losing my mind. I'm like 90% sure I am. It's a problem._

He'd talked about his coping techniques. Talked about having a therapist. Ben hadn't said much in detail, but that whole relationship had sounded really fucking unhealthy to Rey. She hadn't judged him then, though, so maybe just maybe he'd understand?

Ping.

_SirBenjaminStalkerson-_ _5:07_ _AM_

_It's okay, Rey. It happens to us all._

For the second time tonight, she cracked a smile. Excellent punctuation as always, and he hadn't even karking blinked at what she'd just said to him.

Okay. Deeeeeeeep breath.

_Me_ _-_ _5:08_ _AM_

_I've got these feelings. I don't know how to describe them, but they're real. They make me do things I can't explain. I don't feel in control anymore Ben._

It physically hurt to hit send. She knew she sounded worse than crazy. She sounded like she should be in that insane asylum that maybe she's actually really in right now and then at least she's not a real danger to society, right?

Uptempo Motown blasts her ears and Rey nearly shrieked, suffocating herself on her own palm as she dropped the phone in shock.

The music kept playing. SirBenjaminStalkerson appeared on the screen along with a shaking phone symbol. He was calling her. They didn't call. That was their unspoken agreement. Text only, stalker, and stay in your lane.

Ring ring ring. Rey has never actually used this phone as a phone, and she fumbled with different buttons and pulldown screens until she can figure out how to mute it. She'd have to change that ringtone too because jeeze.

Silent ring ring. SirBenjaminStalkerson wasn't going anywhere.

"Oh for fuck's sake Ben, no."

She whispered it into the quiet room. Outside her window a door slammed shut. It was nearly dawn and this was the latest earliest they had ever stayed up talking to each other.

The ringing symbol on her phone finally stopped and Rey sighed, tears pricking at her eyes as a sharp feeling of desolation washed over her.

Then it came back. Bright screen, phone symbol, SirBenjaminStalkerson was being persistent.

Oh Rey knew exactly how persistent he could be. The only way he was going to stop was if she turned her phone off completely and… and maybe she didn't want to do that.

Her thumb started to twitch as indecision filled her. Her crawlies shimmered, spiraling down her arm and Rey gasped as she tried and failed to stop them.

They swiped. Call connected.

There was an odd, tinny noise in the background. Something swooshed like the rustle of fabric right next to the mouthpiece.

"Ben?" she whispered.

Suddenly her bedroom felt too quiet. This was a conversation she should be having in some sort of open, public space. Or absolutely not, but finally talking to her stalker in the dark? Awk _-_ _ward_ _._

The sound of a shaky exhale greeted her ears and Rey felt her face flush. She sat upright, supporting herself on her elbows as she swallowed nervously.

"I'd forgotten you had an accent."

Oh. Well… she'd forgotten how deep his voice was. And how could he tell she had an accent just from saying his name?

"We shouldn't be talking."

She dropped her voice as quiet as she could make it. Likely Plutt would be passed out well into the morning, but dealing with him until she had a plan was categorically the very last thing she could handle right now.

When Ben talked next, her matched her quiet tone to an almost identical octave.

"You can always hang up, Rey," he told her. "And I'll keep calling until you pick up again. I know what it's like to be crazy. What did you mean by you're not in control?"

Boom. Just right out and say it like that, huh? Well Rey knew that she had started this. Had started this from the very beginning right when she decided 'hey, this young guy looks like an easy mark'. Things had kind of escalated from there.

Kark it.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Rey flops back on her bed and starts from the beginning of when tonight had gone so wrong.

*

It was dawn and passersby were starting to watch him.

Ben knew he probably looked liked someone who should be reported. Like someone who definitely shouldn't be operating a motor vehicle. He was practically straining in his seat, rocking back and forth and gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity as he tried to pull himself together.

His problems were two fold. Or two thousand fold, but he meant his current, right now, stay in the moment and focus sort of problems.

Problem one. He was going to get Rey's motorcycle back. Back from that- that- that soon to be very, very, very sorry jogger who had assaulted her. She hadn't wanted to talk too much about what had happened, but Ben had heard the waver in her voice when she talked about the hypnosis she'd been forced into. How she couldn't control her own body and the karking-kriffing-fucking jogger had taken her hard-earned money and left her stranded and vulnerable. It sounded too much like something Snoke had done to him during their therapy sessions. Just this complete and utter violation of the sanctity of their mind.

Ben could handle it, he deserved it, but his Little Thief wouldn't have to worry about that happening to her ever again.

He knew the license plate number of her motorcycle. Back when she'd been watching him at his old house, he'd gotten restless and had sneaked out and written it down. He wasn't going to do anything with it, just like he wasn't going to do anything with her address now.

Except now he was. He'd have to… kriff. The only person who could help him track down that plate number was karking Hux and Ben knew that uptight prick would squeal about it to Snoke. How his therapist would feel about all of this remained a concerning mystery, but it would be worth it. He'd get his Little Thief's property back and tell her she didn't have to worry about Jogger Boy anymore.

But that brought him to problem number two: the really big one. The one that made him wish he was someone else. Someone stronger and- and more in control.

He now knew which one was her bedroom window.

Ben categorically hadn't planned on stumbling onto that knowledge, but it had just sort of happened. This whole night had been a strange one. He hadn't felt like himself. Hadn't been able to stop himself.

When she didn't come back from her 'Crazy Dangerous COMA Caper' (bless her for that), Ben had kind of lost it. Hours had trickled by like decades, and he'd… given in. He'd driven to her address. That one thing he had promised he wouldn't do because he'd already done enough. And he'd parked in the shadows of an alley and he'd waited and waited and waited and kind of lost it more before she'd texted him back.

Somehow he'd gotten her to talk to him. Really talk, not this cold impersonal clacking of digital keys popping up on the screen. He'd really heard her voice. She'd sounded so pretty but terrified. He'd fix that. Ben couldn't fix much, but this he could take care of.

And they'd gotten to talking for so long that her phone had almost died. He'd told her to go and plug it in, and he'd been so stupid to not realize what that meant.

A light in one of the second story windows had come on. Then it had gone off and she'd called him back and said no problem, she was just sitting next to the charger.

Ben hadn't been able to breathe. He knew which window was hers. She was talking about running away from the police and how that had been so strange but he almost didn't hear that part. He knew where she slept. He knew. Knew where she was sitting as talking to him right at that exact moment and she didn't know. She didn't know that he knew.

It shouldn't matter. It was fine that he knew where Rey's room was. They were close like that. Not a problem. It was nothing.

Except not sure felt like everything to him.

Oh. Kriff. This was so dangerous. If Snoke found out-

No. No.

Ben wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let a lot of things happen. No, Ben swore here and now that was going to find a way to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Stalky Stalkerson! You promised you wouldn't go to her address not matter how much you wanted to. Bad boy! *rolls up newspaper *
> 
> Next chapter I think will be a Luke's POV or maybe a half Luke's, half Rey's. Should I mention who's POV it is at the start of the chapter or is it fine doing it like this?


End file.
